Aimless Existence: Unguided Souls
by Contaminated Angel
Summary: AU.In a world where Shinigami and Asura are myth, and witches exist only in tales told to scare children, what is to become of Meisters and Weapons?
1. Priests and Paperwork

A.N: This has not been beta'd, and i have no idea how too use this site. If i screw something up, please tell me so i can fix it. Notes about the story can be found at the bottom of the page. I DO NOT OWN SOUL EATER.

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The dream was always the same.

"Papa when's momma coming back" the little sandy haired boy would ask his father, tears in his eyes as he watched his mother leave the city behind. His father would stand behind him, in his immaculate black suit red hair ruffled by the breeze, silent for a moment before stooping down to his son's level.

"Momma isn't coming back son, it's…it's for good this time." He would answer his face carved from granite as he tried to be strong for his son, when all he wanted to do was cry. "But don't worry, daddies here, daddy will always be here." He would gather up the child in his arms, and as he began to wail the dream would end.

Michael Albarn awoke clammy, his body covered in a cold sweat and tears running down his cheeks. He was no longer the tiny sandy haired boy from his dream. The years had made him tall and strong, yet even now as a man the pain from his past could still make him cry. It had been two years since he had last had that dream, and he had hoped that meant he was finally past it. The time following his mother's departure had been hard, Spirit was far from a perfect parent, and Michael's eventual discovery of the reasons behind their shattered household had damaged his relationship with the man considerably. He had hated his father for a time, then he had come to pity him. Spirit had lost everything he ever loved, lost it because of his own foolishness.

It was from his father's failure that Michael had learned the most important lesson. When you found something you cared about, truly cared about, you grabbed it with both hands and you never let go. Not for anything. As he rose and stumbled to the bath, he could hear the morning bells. Silently he gave thanks to the lord Shinigami that he hadn't lost any sleep to the dream, he needed to be well rested this day. After he had washed, he pulled on his trousers and buttoned up his shirt, before throwing on his favorite mantled black canvas duster and walking out of his room.

Michael lived in a boarding house on the south side of Death City, a city famous for a single reason. It wasn't the architecture, it wasn't its history, it wasn't even the natural hot springs. Death city was famous for being the headquarters of the Shibusen mercenary guild. As was his wont Michael made a detour to father Justin's parish, when he was still two streets removed from the church he began to hear the organ and the priests shouted sermon. He's quite enthusiastic this morning Michael thought, usually he could only start to hear the sounds at one street away. Must have visitors he decided as he walked to the familiar building and pushed open the door. If the noise had been loud outside it was positively deafening inside, as the organ blared and the thin blond priest bellowed scripture.

"AND THUS DID SHINIGAMI CREATE MAN THAT THERE WOULD BE A CONTINUATION AND BALANCE OF SOULS" the priest quoted from the small book upon his pulpit " IN THEM HE WAS WELL PLEASED, AND THEN DID SHINIGAMI REST FOR THE WORK WAS FINISHED. AND AS HE DID REST ASURA, WHO WAS FIRST AMONG HIS HOST, DID GO FORTH TO THE WORLD THEY HAD CREATED AND HE DID LOOK UPON MAN AND WAS FILLED WITH TERROR. FOR GREAT WAS THE FEAR WITHIN ASURA, AND BEHOLD HE DID FEAR THAT THEY MIGHT GROW IN STRENGHT AND DISPLACE HIM AND HIS LORD. THUS DRIVEN BY FEAR DID ASURA RELEASE MADNESS INTO THE WORLD. AND BEHOLD HE DID CREATE THEN THE FIRST WITCH, TO BE A SCOURGE UPON MAN, AND TO PREVENT THAT WHICH HE FEARED. AND LO, WHEN SHINIGAMI DID AWAKEN FROM HIS SLUMBER HE DID BEHOLD THAT THE WORK HAD BEEN DISRUPTED, AND THE BALANCE LOST. GREAT WAS HIS RAGE, AND HE DID FALL UPON ASURA AND STRIP HIM OF HIS SKIN. YEA HE DID BIND THE MAD GOD IN A PRISON OF HIS OWN FLESH, AND ENTOMBED HIM FOR ALL ETERNITY. BUT BEHOLD HE COULD UNDO THE DAMAGE TO THE GREAT WORK, FOR SHOULD HE DIRECT HIS MIGHT TOWARD THE WORLD THE GREAT WORK WOULD BE DESTROYED ENTIRELY. AND BEHOLD HIS HANDS WERE BOUND, FOR HE COULD DO NOT TO STOP THE CREATION OF ASURA. THEN DID EIBON COME BEFORE SHINIGAMI AND SAY UNTO HIM 'LORD, SEND ME AND I WILL BRING BALANCE TO THE GREAT WORK IN YOUR NAME' AND YEA SHINIGAMI DID COMMAND EIBON TO GO FORTH. AND EIBON DID COME INTO THE WORLD, AND HE DID TAKE IN HIS HAND A MAN AND A WOMAN, AND BEHOLD HE DID CREATE THE FIRST MEISTER AND THE FIRST WEAPON. "

Justin paused to take a breath and Michael slipped out. He didn't really believe in those old myths, witches? Really? It all seemed a bit ridiculous to him. Priests claimed they had existed, before being driven to extinction, but Michael figured they had never lived at all. He stopped by the church to try and talk to Justin. The man was a legend, a lone weapon who had achieved a place among the guilds elite the death-scythes, before retiring from the guild to devote his life to the church. Michael came by when he had time, to try and wheedle stories and combat tips from the man. He usually had to sit through a sermon or two to get any results, but it was worth it. There was no chance of a story today though. He had seen a few brave souls seated in the first few pews. Justin would be busy cramming doctrine into those unfortunate fools for a few hours at least, and Michael had work to do.

As he walked through the arched hallways of the guild he went straight past the job notice board, he didn't need any work at the moment and had a back log of paperwork to take care of. After quickly making his way to his office in the lower levels he closed the door behind him and sat down behind his desk. Thus seated he turned his attention to the to-do pile on the left corner of his desk, which had come to be at his eye level while he was away on his last assignment. Michael sighed and pulled the first folder off the pile, a dossier of new recruits including several weapons. He looked it over before tossing it into the open filing cabinet behind him, and then proceeded to move onto the other paperwork he had stacked up. For the next hour or so Michael looked over forms, evaluations, complaints, legal documents, and bills, marking where appropriate and sending replies when necessary.

What I wouldn't give for an office on the two star level he mused, they have secretaries to do all this crap for them. Michael was technically a two star meister, but he wasn't able to perform two star missions just yet, and as such had no place on the two star level. His thoughts were interrupted by a timid knocking on his door.

"Come in" he called out, and the door slowly swung inward. A nervous little slip of a girl stood framed in the door way, he could see her tiny soul flickering from her agitation. Her hair was black, her eyes canted, and when she spoke her English was clipped and accented. "Master call for you" she said" master said he have a job for you."

Michael sighed as he stood up another mission, great, now he would never get caught up on his paperwork. He forced a smile "well I should go see the boss then shouldn't i." The girl seemed to relax a little at his smile, that was good, Michael Albarn didn't want to be the kind of man who scared little girls. She followed him at first, until they came to the stairs to the second level of the building, and then she stopped and waved good-bye before running off. A pleasant girl, he thought to himself as he climbed the stairs towards the top floor, but she seemed unsuited to the life of a Shibusen mercenary. He didn't think she would stay very long.

The topmost floor of the guild consisted of the guild masters office, and the hallway leading to it. As he moved down the hall Michael couldn't help but note the eccentricity of the decorum. The pillars and arches of the halls support structure had been made to resemble guillotines. It went pretty well with the hall's crimson carpet he finally decided, but in his opinion the skull torch holders were a bit much. Finally he reached the end of the passageway and knocked, requesting entrance.

"Enter" a resounding baritone voice ordered from beyond the door, and enter he did. The old man smiled as he stepped through the door. "Michael please sit down" he said, and Michael sat. the guild head was a tall man, his hair starting to bleach to white, with only patches of its former coal black remaining. As he looked at the man behind the desk, wrapped up in the great dark cloak that was his preferred attire, Michael could see where the man's alias had come from.

Years ago a war correspondent for a major newspaper had called him the " Reaper", and said that it was as if the lord Shinigami himself had stepped onto the battlefield. The name stuck, and under that name he gained fame and fortune sufficient to create the Shibusen mercenary guild. Now that guild was one of the largest in the world, with influence stretching from its headquarters in Nevada to far flung outposts in Oceania, and though its master had grown old he was still hale.

"Michael I know your busy, after all I gave you the work, but I have a job for you. A request arrived yesterday from an English baron in the Ohio territories. He wants to hire a meister to guard his daughter for her journey to a convent in New York. "The boss sounded like he should be happy about being offered this job, but Michael didn't see the appeal of babysitting some spoiled brat on her way to visit a bunch of nuns.

"That sounds interesting" he replied diplomatically " but I'm a little busy, maybe It would be better as a training mission for one of the green horns" he suggested. It seemed to him that this sort of job didn't really deserve his attention. The boss frowned and his reply, his expression becoming more dour.

"We can't send any trainees" he replied "the baron specifically requested, and is paying for, a two star meister. You wouldn't suggest I send a trainee on a two star mission would you" Michael couldn't believe his ears, a two star mission. The boss was finally offering him a two star mission. He smiled at the thought of moving up to the two star floor, it was a pleasant mental image. The master's next words called him back to reality.

"Speaking of trainees did you look over the dossier I sent you" he asked innocently. Michael's eyes scrunched up, he knew where this was going and he didn't like it. "Yes" was his reply, and if he had his way that would be the end of it. The boss wasn't willing to let it end at that however "and?" He asked.

Michael sighed, he knew what the man wanted, and though it was perfectly reasonable Michael couldn't give it to him. It was the reason that this would be Michael's first two star mission, his one flaw. While it was true that Michael was a two star meister he wasn't…complete. Michael Albarn didn't have a partner, didn't have a weapon. It was why he visited Justin so much. The priest had made it without a partner, and Michael saw no reason why he couldn't do the same.

It wasn't that he didn't want a partner, the problem was he was determined to wait for the right one. Michael had been trained as a scythe meister, and scythes were incredibly rare. He probably could have made due with a different weapon like the boss wanted, but he couldn't do it. He would have a scythe or nothing at all.

As he watched his subordinates face lock down the "Reaper" couldn't help but slump his shoulders a bit. He already knew what would happen. Michael Albarn was one of the most talented meisters he knew, and possibly the most stubborn. His abilities with soul perception were frankly amazing, possibly the best he had ever seen, but his talent came with a stone skull.

The man simply couldn't realize that he didn't have the talent set to work without a weapon. True, there were some who could, but Michael wasn't one of them. He had made it this far by using his soul perception abilities to predict his opponent's movements, but the older man feared that someday the headstrong young blonde would get into a fight where he wouldn't be able to stay one step ahead. It would be shame for such a promising meister to die like that. He decided to try and convince him one more time.

"Some of those new recruits are quite promising, like that young woman I sent to get you, Tsugumi. She's a halberd, that's not that different from a scythe. Why don't you at least try resonating with some of them, see how it feels?" He asked, hoping that the scythe meister might see reason.

But Michael refused to budge. "Thank you for the job sir" he said, blatantly ignoring the guild master's last statement. "Is there anything else, or may I leave?" the old man sighed, it looked like today wasn't his day, perhaps when Michael got back from this job…well he'd try again then.

"Very well Michael, here is your ticket. Be sure to get plenty of rest, your train leaves tomorrow morning. "He said handing him a small envelope. " When you get there seek out the manor of Barron…Evans. He will give you further instruction when you get there."

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A.N: And there's chapter one, thanks for reading till the end. I was always curious what would happen if Shinigami wasn't around to regulate the Weapons and Meisters, and that's where this came from. Now the big question i know you all have, why in the name of all that is good in the universe would i make a male version of Maka? And why does he have a western name? The reason is pretty simple, I've always kinda related to Maka. I relate because my father is a womanizer, but the way i handled it was different, because I'm a guy. Obviously i'm not going to have issues trusting men. Between my desire to put a little of myself into the story, and the lust bit of the salvage arc in the manga i had all the inspiration i needed for Michael. Who is named Michael because Albarn is a western name in my opinion, and i couldn't think of a male Japanese name similar to Maka.

I know the first chapters kind of short, but bare with me, they will get longer as i get into the story. I ended it here because it seemed like a nice place to cut off. Regardless of whether or not people like this i'm going to keep writing it. That being said if you do like it, or have something you want to say, please leave a review. Just in case anyone's wondering, i rated it M because of what i have planned in a latter arc. For the record its gore and violence, not lemon, though i won't make any promises that lemon won't find its way in at some point. thank you again for reading.

Sincerely

Contaminated Angel.


	2. Patriarchs and Pianos

A.N. And here's chapter 1.5. It's not really chapter two, I'll explain at the bottom of the page where you may find my notes for this chapter and response to reviews.

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Soulina Evans, second child and only daughter of Baron Evans, hated knitting. She hated siting in the parlor with her governess pulling the threads of yarn across the pattern with the long metal picks. She hated the vapid conversation she was expected to maintain while doing it. She hated that her hats, and her scarves, and her gloves never came out quite right. The only thing she hated with the same fervor as knitting was needlework…and perhaps painting. But a lady of her station was expected to know these things, and her father had been most insistent, so here she was.

A light spring breeze blew in through the window, and Soulina could hear the birds sing. The wind carried the faint aroma of crushed pine needles and freshly cut grass, a testament to the labors of the grounds keeper. She wished for nothing more to leave the parlor, to run among the flower beds. But that would not do, a lady was prim and proper, a lady did not romp around the garden. So she sat and knitted.

It could be worse the young girl mused, it could be Sunday. On Sundays she was dressed up in full court regalia. The governess said she needed to become accustomed to it. Her long snowy tresses were pulled up into painfully intricate patterns, her movements impeded by the veritable mounds of frill wrapped around her legs, and her breath stolen by- Shinigami preserve her- a corset. Upon further consideration Soulina decided that she hated high fashion, and corsets in particular, far more than knitting or needlework.

But today was not a Sunday, today was a Tuesday. Today her hair was pulled back into a comfortable reasonable ponytail, and her attire was a loose crimson one piece dress with long sleeves which matched her eyes. Of course she also wore her ever present wide brim hat, and as always she had a scarf wrapped around her neck and pulled up to cover her face. Her condition necessitated their presence.

As she worked the threads back and forth mechanically she let her mind drift, filtering out Miss Bennet. Despite being stuck knitting she couldn't bring herself to be unhappy, her brother was coming home. She loved it when Wes came back to visit. He spent so much time at court, and he had been her favorite family member and closest confidante since mother's death. And he always brought back such magnificent stories. She loved to hear tales of dances, of faraway cities and train rides. She had never been on a train, and she hadn't left the family estates in years. Normally a girl of her age and social position would have already made her social debut, but due to Soulina's condition she had been hidden away.

Eventually her lesson ended, and Soulina was left to her own devices until supper. Tossing the fruit of her labor- a slightly lopsided blue cap - to the side, she made her way outside intent on enjoying the beautiful spring afternoon. The Evans estate and grounds were not large. Though he was lord of several towns and a large parcel of land in the Ohio, in addition to a small holding in England, Baron Evans was not rich. The baron chose to live modestly and devote his resources to expanding his political powerbase and improving his lands.

Of course when we say that the Baron was not rich, or that he lived modestly, we are of course speaking subjectively. By the standards of the English nobility, some of whom had been known to purchase entire menageries of exotic animals for their children's birthdays, Baron Evans was not rich. His home, a pretty two storied affair, was modest only in comparison to the veritable castles built by some of his peers. A prime example being the home of Viscount Noah, a man who delighted in acquiring anything and everything that struck his fancy, and who would have long since bankrupted himself if not for the precious metals on his lands.

Still, though "modest" the Evans manor was quite lovely. With a wide open porch, a pair of balconies, and a great many windows to let in the sun. Standing on either side of the path like great silent sentinels were towering pine trees, and the grounds were blanketed in a sea of well-manicured grass dotted with flowerbeds. Soulina wandered, weaving around said flowerbeds, her shoes discarded in favor feeling the soft grass beneath her feet.

Eventually she came to rest beside a patch of white flowers. She didn't know what they were called, her governess instructed her in the three R's and proper feminine activities, not the names of flowers. Caught up in her study of the drooping white bells she failed to notice the man behind her until he quietly cleared his throat. As she looked over her shoulder at the source of the noise her eyes came to rest upon a figure of middling height. He wore a well-tailored beige vest over a crisp white shirt with and a matching pair of trousers. His ensemble was completed by a cravat and leather gloves. His auburn hair was beginning to thin out on top, and his beard was starting to grey. He was by no means a physically imposing man, but he had a certain presence which demanded respect.

"Hello father" Soulina said turning and rising into a more dignified position, looking up to gaze into his dark brown eyes with her own crimson orbs "too what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" her father did not answer, staring pointedly at her for several moments until she remembered to perform an –admittedly belated – courtesy. He nodded at that, and formalities completed, began to speak.

"Daughter" he said the word completely devoid of any emotional inflection. They had never been close. Following her mother's death Soulina had been passed from one tutor to the next, her father's involvement in her life had consisted of quiet dinners and meetings in the hall, and he was often away on business. "I wish to discuss your future."

Her heart sped up at his words. Her future? Would she finally be allowed to leave the manor? Working very hard to keep her voice under control, a proper lady was calm and collected, she asked "what is it you wish to say father?"

"I know how much you wish to see the world and i believe it is time you left the manor. In truth it should have been done last year, for that reason I have arranged to send you to New York." She could hardly believe her ears, it was time! She was leaving the manor, she would see the world! "Your escort will arrive this Friday, and you will depart the following morning."

A dream this had to be a dream, she surreptitiously pinched herself behind her back where her father couldn't see. "Escort father"? She asked, attempting to buy time for her mind to organize itself.

"Yes, I have hired a Shibusen mercenary to ensure your safety on the road. It is a long journey and I wish to ensure that you arrive unharmed." At this her heart beat faster still, a Shibusen mercenary! She had heard stories, but to really meet one! It was so exiting, but her father's words left her somewhat confused.

"A long journey? Surely we will just take the train?" True it still took some time, but a train ride could hardly be called a long journey, and could not possibly be so dangerous as to warrant hiring a Shibusen mercenary.

"I am afraid that the trains are not an option. I do not trust those contraptions, far too dangerous, you will be much safer traveling in a carriage." Soulina thought her father was being silly. But since she was being let out into the world she didn't question it, besides the display of concern for her well-being was kind of cute, paternal.

"Very well" she said, before another thought occurred to her. "You said I would be leaving Saturday?"

"Yes" he replied

"But my brother does not return until Monday"

"That is correct" her father told her. "I am afraid you will depart before you have the chance to see your brother." Soulina was mildly distressed at this piece of information, but her discomfort did not last long. Knowing her father her stay in New York would likely be short and Wes was going to be back for two months. She would see him when she got back, and this time it would be she who told the stories. After all she would be traveling with a real Shibusen mercenary!

"I suppose it cannot be avoided" she said "I will be able to see him when I return." Her father frowned when she said this, and he paused a minute before speaking slowly to her in his heavy basso voice.

"Soulina I don't believe you understand" he rumbled "you're not visiting New York, I am sending you to live there." He paused before continuing. "Since we cannot present you to the court, I have arranged for you to join a convent. I would not have you spend the whole of your life trapped in this manor."

Soulina said the first thing that came to her mind, her dream was turning into a nightmare "so you would have me spend my life trapped somewhere else" she accused, leveling her finger at him. "I don't want to join a convent" her father's face was beginning to turn purple.

"That is irrelevant" he hissed "I am your father and I have decided. You can no longer stay here, people are beginning to talk. Claims of poor health and frailty can no longer explain why you have not once made an appearance. To join a convent is a respectable and honorable action. No one would pry, you would in fact be very well thought of for your decision, and I know the abbess and she assures me your secret would be safe with the sisters."

"And now the truth comes out" she hissed back, going so far as to actually poke him in the chest. "It all comes back to politics, all you want is to hide me away, and if you can push me farther from prying eyes and earn respect for the family by claiming it was my choice why wouldn't you? After all what are my feelings compared to the opportunity to better your position!" She could see the veins in his neck throbbing, and when he opened his mouth she was sure that he was going to bellow his rage to the heavens, but when he spoke it was quiet and far more intense than any fit of yelling could ever be.

"I have made my decision" he said "this Saturday you, your maid, and two manservants will leave in a carriage with the mercenary. There will be no discussion, I acting in your best interest. When you come to your senses and realize that, I will be in my office waiting for you to apologize for your impertinence."

Soulina watched as her father turned and stalked up the drive, and she waited until several minutes after he had gone through the manor's front door, before running in and making her way up the stairs to the second floor and a little room at the end of the left hand corridor.

Inside was a grand piano, ivories worn smooth by years of roaming fingers. It had been her mothers. Some of her earliest memories were of her mother, a heart faced blonde woman, sitting at the bench serenading her. When she was seven her mother had contracted a disease, the doctors didn't know what. She had lasted less than a year, slowly wasting away. The loss of his wife had driven Baron Evans to bury himself in his work, and to distance himself from the daughter who reminded him of her. She had begged him to spend time with her, but when that failed she asked for piano lessons instead, and her father had obliged.

She never felt better than when she was playing, it made her feel close to her mother and let her pour out her emotions. It comforted her to press down on cool ivory and listen to the sounds produced, to let it all out and lose herself in the music. She needed that comfort now, as she threw herself onto the bench and began striking the keys. Under her ministrations the piano began of moan a haunting dirge. There was something worse than knitting, worse than corsets. Something she had found that made all her previous "hatreds" and discomforts inconsequential, the indescribable pain of having no control over her own life.

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A.N. So anyway that's that, hoped you like it. My apologies for how long it took to update, I've been busy and my muse is an ass. As i was writing chapter two i realized something was missing, so i went back and decided to write something different deciding that chapter two would become chapter three. As i was writing i realized what i was writing really belonged as part of chapter one, which i always thought was somewhat lacking. I decided i would post it as chapter two under the name Patriarchs and Pianos until i finished the real chapter, at which point i would roll it in with chapter one rename the first chapter Priests and Patriarchs, and fix a few typos i noticed while rereading. My apologies for my failure to format properly. I promise to fix it as soon as possible with my next update. Speaking of updates i actually hope to get the next chapter up within the next two days, because after that I'm going to be busy for several weeks. Still i refuse to do a rushed job, so if i don't finish in time my apologies in advance for the wait.

If you have any constructive criticism or points of concern, please inform me via review or pm. I am willing to work with my readers to improve the story.

Thank you all for reading

Sincerely

Contaminated Angel

Now on to responding to the review

GlitterGoat

Thank you for reviewing. I'm glad you like it, and i hope that as i continue the story it remains something you can enjoy. To answer your question, i would have to say the manga. Partly because i prefer the manga, and also because in future Arcs i will use information from the manga not found in the anime to explain certain character's actions.


	3. An Uncommon Traveler

I'm back. Here's the update. Sorry it took so long but it couldn't be helped. I still don't own soul eater, and authors notes can still be found at the bottom of the page.

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Chapter three

Envelope in hand Michael trotted down the hall and out of the building. The paperwork would have to wait; if he was leaving on a job tomorrow morning then he needed today to prepare. He hurried home and grabbed his travel pack, before leaving for the town market. He ignored those hawking travel rations; he could get his provisions from the guild quartermaster far cheaper. He was here for something special. Michael went straight to the apothecary.

Sunlight poured into the dimly lit room when he opened the door, casting light onto a veritable maze of cramped shelves. Kim's shop didn't have any windows, she said sunlight was bad for some of her concoctions, and lighting was expensive, so it was often dark in the apothecaries' shop. Closing the door behind him Michael carefully walked between the shelves looking for the short pink locks of the owner, careful not to knock anything off the shelves. If you broke it, you bought it, and Kim was known to charge exorbitant prices. Finally he spied her in the left hand corner of the shop lifting a box onto a shelf.

"Hello Michael" she called out before he had the chance to speak, her back still turned to him "what can I do for you?" She asked as she turned around to face him. He wasn't surprised that she knew who he was, or that he was there without looking. Kim Diehl like Michael himself was a Meister, someone born with the ability to sense and manipulate soul wavelengths.

"You know why I'm here Kim" he said as she moved behind the counter, turning his body to follow her movements.

"Why Michael I'm flattered" she said "but I'm just not interested in you" Michael snorted, he had known Kim for years and was used to their regular friendly banter.

"Kim I think you've mistaken me for Ox" he said, his lips tugging up at the corners. "I'm here for your medicines not your feminine charms."

"I could never mistake you for Ox Michael" she returned "you are nowhere near as handsome" at this assertion Michael burst out laughing.

"Kim if you think that Ox is handsome perhaps you need your eyes checked" he said, then holding up a hand to forestall her rebuttal he spoke again. "Kim I'm in a wee bit of a hurry, could we get down to business?" he asked drawing out his purse.

Her eyes settled on the coin pouch. "Fine" she said, brushing a strand of pink hair out of her eyes. Almost anywhere else in the world her hair would have been abnormal, especially considering it was natural, but not in Death City. Death City was a city of Meisters and weapons, and strange physical features were quite common. Those born Meisters and Weapons were different from normal people, body and soul. This was most apparent in those who manifested abnormal physical traits, the difference in their being representing itself on their physical bodies. The phenomenon was most common among those with special, or extremely strong, wavelengths.

A prime example was Kim, who was able to project her wavelength into others and manipulate it to facilitate healing, reknitting torn tissue and cracked bone. She was famous throughout Death city for her ability to heal wounds that should have been fatal, to take battlefield casualties who should have been bedridden for months and have them ready to fight again in hours. Of course, he thought as he watched the way she eyed his purse, she was also infamous for her love of money. She wasn't greedy so much a self-interested and untrusting. Money, she had once told him, would never betray her.

"You'll be wanting the usual then?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes"

"Very well" she said, turning around to reach behind her and bring down a small wooden chest, which she placed on the counter. Michael reached down to open the container. Inside were six sealed glass jars filled with a grey powder. This powder was the third and final reason Kim was famous, and why she was the only apothecary in the city.

When mixed with water the powder formed a paste, which served as a disinfectant, coagulate, anesthetic, and then dried into a rubbery substance which sealed and protected the wound. No need for bandages, no fear of infection, prevention of blood loss. It was quite literally a life saver.

It was one of the mercenary's greatest fears to be wounded far from medical attention. To watch as the wound festered and the poison of the infection spread throughout his body. To watch as his life pumped out in bursts of crimson lifeblood. The powder eliminated that fear, as it was quite frankly more effective than some rural physicians.

Unfortunately the miraculous powder came at quite a price. "How much for the chest Kim?" he asked.

"Twelve pounds" she replied. Michael choked on his own tongue. With twelve pounds a man could buy himself a horse, and a fine one at that. But he needed the medicine, his previous supply was gone, and he was going on a two star mission. He could try to make do with a lesser product, but he didn't want to take the risk. He decided to try haggling the price down before buying, though he knew it was unlikely to succeed as Kim knew he had nowhere else to go.

"It was eight the last time I was here" he growled.

"I had more then" she said "it's not easy to make, and the demand is quite high as I'm sure you can imagine. If you can't afford the whole chest, you could just buy individual jars, I'll sell them to you at two and a bit apiece."

He considered the offer momentarily before discarding it, buying in bulk was cheaper in the long run.

"Ten for the lot" he countered "and I'll owe you a favor."

Her response was instant "you know I don't deal in favors and promises Michael, hard cash only. Twelve pounds."

"Eleven"

She smiled "I'll sell for eleven and two bits, just because it's you Michael."

"You're an angel Diehl, I'll never accuse you of being a moneygrubbing witch again" he said as he pulled the money from his purse and placed it on the counter.

It was her turn to laugh "we both know that's not true Michael" she said as she closed the chest and passed it to him. With his business done Michael turned and left the shop.

After leaving the shop Michael made his way to one of the guilds warehouses on the outskirts of town and bartered with the quartermaster for enough hardtack, jerky, and canned goods, to fill the remainder of his pack. Presumably his employer would provide for his needs, but a wise mercenary was prepared for anything. His shopping finished he returned home to rustle up the remaining necessities and rest, he would need the sleep. He had never been able to sleep well on trains, all the rattling and the jostling prevented it, and he knew that this trip would be no exception.

Three days later as he trudged up the dirt path to Baron Evans manor he reflected that he had in fact been right. The train ride had been miserable. He had hardly slept at all, and was far from his best. There were bags under his eyes, his head ached, and he spoke in a low growl. To top it off when he had departed the train he had learned that the manor was twenty two miles away, and had then set to walking. Perhaps if he looked a bit less conspicuous he might have been able to hitch a ride. He had earned quite a few odd looks, not because travelers were uncommon in these parts, but because he was an uncommon traveler.

It was the box that drew the attention, the box he carried across his shoulders resting on the frame of his travel pack. If it weren't for its dimensions they would have thought it an instrument case. But what instrument fit in a case that was more than five feet long and three feet wide, but had less than a foot of depth? Still, he attracted less attention than he would have openly carrying his scythe, which could not possibly be mistaken for a farm tool. For one thing the blade was too fine, and the haft lacked handles. The handles were useful on agricultural scythes, designed to allow the user to more easily preform the singular low sweeping movement such tools were used for. But on his scythe such handles would hinder movement, and as such were not present.

Night had fallen when he reached the turnoff to the manor. The dirt path was lit only by the glow of the moon and the stars, and by the lights of the manor visible at the end of the trail. He trudged forward feet dragging, maintaining the same pace he had kept since leaving the train station. He could likely have arrived before nightfall if he had run, but after days on a train and with the weight of his pack and scythe on his shoulders he hadn't felt like it. The meet was scheduled for Friday, the dossier he had been given never said what time.

He reached out and took the knocker in hand as he stepped up to the doorway, thumping it against the door four times. Michael waited patiently until the door was opened by a well-dressed manservant, who led him to the Baron's office. As they made their way into the house Michael found himself sizing up the butler- for he was a butler as indicated by his dress- more from habit than anything else. He was an older man, beginning to grey at the temples. He was slim through the shoulders and waist, and sported a thin black mustache.

It was not long before they reached the office. The room was clean and business like. A pair of cabinets along the back wall, a small book case to the left side and in the center of the room a large desk with a chair facing it. Baron Evans waited behind the desk. To Michael he seemed a rather plain man. Average height, neither fat nor fit, greying and receding hair, the only thing that stood out was his beard. Most of the gentry preferred to be clean shaven. His voice, a rumbling basso, proved to be a surprise. Michael had been expecting a baritone.

"You are the escort I requested?" he inquired calmly.

In response Michael reached into his duster and pulled out his guild medallion, his proof of membership. No one would dare copy one, assuming one had the skill to do so he would know that he could make much better money legitimately and without risking decapitation, defenestration, or evisceration. It was an intricately crafted depiction of a skull on the side of a broad disc, a masterpiece painted in veins of silver on a pewter canvas. Feeling no need to speak Michael held up the medallion so that the baron could see it clearly.

"Good" the baron said when it became apparent Michael didn't intend to speak. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming. Now that you are here let us get down to business. Tomorrow morning my daughter will depart for Kingston with her maid and two footmen in a stagecoach. You are to ensure they reach their destination in a safe and timely manner. "

"I understand sir, but if I may be so bold as to ask why a stagecoach? Why not travel by train?" queried Michael.

"There are too many people on a train, I wish this to be done quietly" the baron responded off hand, then he grew more serious "to that end I would appreciate it if you would not speak of this matter when you returned to death city"

"Of course sir, details of any work I do for you remain completely confidential. It's standard Shibusen policy." Michael was lying of course. Everything was reported to the boss, but the baron didn't need to know that. The man obviously had something he was trying to hide, but it was probably some petty secret that wouldn't matter to the boss at all. Considering it involved moving his daughter in secret, Michael figured he could guess what it was. He wondered if she was beginning to show, or if she had gone to her father and confessed before it got that far along.

"Very good" said the baron, his lips pulling up into a small smile that didn't match his cold eyes in the least. "Alfred will show you to the guest bedroom, and I'll send someone to wake you up in the morning. Goodnight."

Michael nodded and stepped out of the room, gathering up his pack and scythe from where he had left them outside, and followed the butler. He didn't find it odd that neither he nor his employer had mentioned their names. Neither had any desire to provide the other with any more information than necessary. After slipping out of his clothes and into bed Michael began to think as he waited to fall asleep. I hope the daughter will mention her name he thought, it would be awkward to spend several days calling her "hey you" or "lass".

Several hours later Michael was woken from a disturbing dream involving a blue talking train by what sounded like thunder, and turned out to be Alfred knocking on his door. After thanking the butler he stumbled to the washbasin and began to shave. As he went through his mourning routine preparing for the day he began to think, after several hours sleep he was feeling much better and since his head had stop feeling like a dozen gnomes were going at it with drills and augers he was thinking much more clearly.

Upon consideration he decided that his previous explanation of the baron's motivations was unlikely. If the man had wanted to hide his daughter for a few months he wouldn't be moving her. This was as rural and well hidden a local as one could ask for. A person could be hidden away here without arousing suspicion for quite some time. If he wasn't hiding her then perhaps she was being sent for medical attention he mused. Though Michael could see little reason for secrecy if that were the case. In the end he decided it didn't really matter why the girl was going to Kingston, so long as he was paid. Dressed and groomed he donned his duster and his pack. It was time to go see his charges.

It was time, the day had come. Soulina had spent the days following her father's announcement ambulating between dread and rage. She had shouted and wept and made use of myriad words that until that time no one had heard pass her lips. She refused to take her lessons, and had even tried a hunger strike before her stomach got the better of her.

Even playing her mother's piano had ceased to be comforting, as every time she touched the ivories it reminded her that soon she would leave, and the piano would not be going with her. Now the day had come, and as she descended the stairs she silently cursed her father. She didn't blame the servants who would be accompanying her, they had no more choice than she did. Her father's word was law. As she continued to descend she decided there was one other she could blame, the mercenary. He or she had chosen to take the contract; they had chosen to be party to this. She resolutely decided that she would hate whoever it was for his part in her misfortune. But as she threw open the door and saw him for the first time she almost changed her mind.

He was engaged in conversation with Damien from the stables, and Adam who had worked on a mail coach before entering her father's service, while Cecelia her maid stood to the side and listened. He stood tall and straight, despite the weight on his back, and his short blond hair shone in the early morning sun. presently the other's laughed and something he said, and he smiled. He had such a nice smile.

He was nothing like what she had been expecting. When she had pictured the mercenary who would escort he she had pictured a great bear of a man, with thick coarse black hair and scars. Someone who would look as cruel as he must surely be, this pleasant looking young man didn't fit with that picture at all. Her spirits lifted slightly. Perhaps, she thought, this won't be so bad after all. Then he opened his mouth.

As the others laughed, Michael allowed a small smile onto his face. This was going well; the others seemed pleasant and willing to include him. It was always a risk when you took a job like this that your companions would exclude you, particularly if you offended one. When he heard the door open Michael turned his head slightly. Catching a figure in a dress with long white hair in his peripheral vision he called out "Is the lass ready yet grandmother? We cannot wait all day while she primps and preens." Likely the girl was your average noble airhead, who couldn't understand that finery was neither required nor feasible in a carriage.

The others became silent, and when no answer came he began to get a sinking feeling in his stomach. He turned slowly to behold the figure in the doorway. While the hair was white, this was no stooped crone, and the dress while simple was to fine to belong to a servant. What little he could see of her face was unlined and quickly turning crimson.

"The lass is ready sell-sword" she hissed, and stomped down the stairs and into the carriage, followed closely by her maid. Michael didn't bother to look at the faces of the footman, he knew what he would see on their faces. Silently he moved to take up position beside the driver. But before he could reach the bench one of the footman grabbed him by the arm and shook his head, gesturing at the door to the interior on the carriage as the driver took up his position. Michael stood, confused for a moment before grasping his meaning. Perfect just perfect he thought as he moved to the side of the carriage and opened the door to climb inside. He was beginning to miss the train.

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Author's notes

First i am going to announce the beginning of the Aimless Existence I spy a reference game. Throughout the story beginning with this chapter i will include references to various other media. These references will be worth a certain amount of points as detailed by the authors note. The first person to review with the correct answer will receive the points. To whoever reaches one hundred points first i shall grant a boon. Mostly I'm doing this for my own enjoyment but it is my hope that you, my readers, will enjoy it too. Now that the rules have been explained let's start the game

This chapter contains two references. One is quite blatant, and as such is worth five points. The other is slightly less obvious and is worth fifteen. If you think you know the answers then review with your guess.

Now that that's done on to more serious business. I'm not going to do the reformatting just yet, I'll take care of it before the next update, but I'm going to wait a bit before i do it so as not to confuse any readers who missed the chapter two update. I hope you liked the chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviews, i appreciate it. If you have any concerns or suggestions just let me know, i remain willing to work with my fans.

Thank you for reading

Sincerely

Contaminated Angel.


	4. Tales by Firelight

Hey everyone, I'm sorry it took so long to update. Between a trip to see relatives, the start of the fall semester, and a bit of writers block, this has update has been delayed for two weeks past what i had planned and I'm sorry about that. Author's notes can be found at the bottom of the page, and I still don't own Soul Eater, nor do I own any of the referenced material.

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She was glaring at him again, he could feel it. He had spent the last hour resolutely staring out the window, attempting to affect the air of a consummate professional scanning the horizon, while she had stared at him with those damnable crimson orbs. It was unnerving. She was silent, the maid was silent, he was silent, and that silence made the air heavy. Michael didn't know why he had to stay in here, he was sure there was room for three on the driver's bench. Hell, he'd rather climb up on top and cling to the roof of the carriage then stay in here, but certain proprieties had to be maintained. Finally he could stand the silence no longer.

"Will you stop that" he snapped, turning from the window to look at her, and her eerie eyes.

"Stop what?" she replied calmly.

"Staring" he shot back.

"Why my dear sell-sword whatever do you mean?" she asked "what reason could I possibly have to stare at you?"

"Perhaps mistress you stare because you have never before seen a Meister." He returned "I can't imagine there would have been many opportunities to do so at such an isolated manor." her eyes dimmed for a moment. It seemed he had struck a nerve, but she soon rallied.

"I begin to wonder if you are a Meister at all sir. Tell me, where is your partner?" she asked.

Bollocks, he could hardly tell her he had no partner. "Working on another job." Michael said "This one was hardly important enough to justify my presence, let alone the both of us. "

She wasn't having that. "It seems to me that if you had a more lucrative job offer you would both be working on that."

"I never said it was more lucrative. I said this job wasn't important enough to require the both of us. It's a slow period, not many high paying jobs, just nubbins. So we split up and handle two at once." She was on to him, but Michael wasn't about to just roll over and confess she was right.

"I've never heard of a Meister or Weapon working alone." Soulina said.

"It's actually not all that uncommon" Michael said, gaining confidence, this much was true after all. "For instance one of the most successful men in my guilds history was a solo weapon, Justin law. Admittedly I would work better with a partner, but I can still get by alone. I'm a two star Meister after all" a little pride slipped into his voice as he finished.

He had been defensive earlier, but that changed when he started speaking about lone fighters. He had straightened up in his seat, and his brow had relaxed. By the time he finished speaking he seemed an entirely different man then he had been at first. Soulina still thought he was hiding something, but his change in demeanor made her begin doubt. Besides something he had said had peaked her curiosity.

"Two star Meister?" She asked, speaking more amiably than she had earlier, her anger discarded in favor of her need to understand.

"Yes" he said, pride creeping into his voice once more. "There are four ranks in the guild, not including trainees. One star Meisters, which make up most of the guild and get the worst jobs. There are also two star Meisters, who make up roughly a quarter of the guild. About a tenth of the guild is Three star Meisters, and the top one percent of the guild are the Death scythes. "

She nodded at his explanation, but then something occurred to her. "Wait, your only a two star, why are you so confident?" she asked.

He flushed slightly, and Soulina realized that perhaps she might have been a little offensive. "Listen lass" he said, his tone becoming heated "most Meister's never even reach the level I'm at, and more often than not for those that do it takes decades. I did it in three years. "He was glaring now, daring her to disregard her accomplishment.

His tone, and his manner of address, reminded her of her previous annoyance, and like coals banked overnight her temper flared anew. "So you say" she said. "So you say, but you have no proof beyond your word, and I find it hard to believe you. If you were such an outstanding Meister why would you take a job like this?"

"What do you mean, 'a job like this', guarding self-important nobles is bread and butter for men like me." He retorted. By this point neither was paying attention to the third person in the carriage, the maid Cecelia, who was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as they continued to argue. As she scooted to the side of the carriage Soulina opened her mouth to speak once more.

"Self-impor…you go too far sir. I am the very picture of an obedient and humble daughter." She seethed

"Yes because the truly humble make it a point to inform others of their humility." He replied condescendingly "and what does obedience have to do with anything?"

"I'm here aren't i?" she asked

It didn't take Michael long to answer. "Yes, because it's so hard to leave the comforts of your home to take a carriage ride to Kingston for a party or a meeting with a suitor, or whatever reason it is your going. Your father must be so proud of his wonderfully obedient daughter."

Soulina said the first thing that came to her mind "so you don't know?" she asked contemplatively, almost to herself, hints of confusion and wonder in her tone.

"Know, Know what?" Michael asked, genuinely confused. This had not been the response he was expecting and it derailed his mental process. As his anger faded he found that his confusion was shot through with guilt. He had been a bit of a prick, but his pride would not allow him to apologize. It would have no problem with him following down the road of inquiry opened up by her last quiet question though. However before he could open his mouth to further inquire as to what she meant the carriage jerked to a stop. So engrossed had they been in the argument that they had failed to realize the carriage was slowing down.

A moment after they had ceased moving the door was pulled open by the driver Adam, a man of average height and a pleasant demeanor, with receding reddish-blond hair and a scraggly goatee. As the occupants of the carriage turned to look at him Soulina was the first to speak.

"Yes Mr. Savage what is it?" she asked.

"Pardon the interruption mistress, but its past noon and we've stopped to rest and water the horses. We thought that perhaps milady and her companions would like lunch."

"That would be fantastic Mr. Savage" Soulina said, she had been feeling a wee bit peckish. She smiled as she stepped out of the carriage, Cecilia and Michael following after. As Soulina and her maid moved off to the side Michael walked to where the one of footmen stood rummaging around in a box attached to the back of the carriage.

"So what are we eating, and how can I help?" he asked. Now that they were free of the carriage he had no desire to be any close to Soulina than he needed to be, and if he could hit it off with the footmen it would improve the journey exponentially.

"Well see, I rigged this here icebox onto the chassis and had the cook put a roast and some vegetables in it, that way we don't have to start in on the travel rations until tomorrow at least" Damien, a tall broad shouldered man with thick curly black hair, replied.

"So it's pretty well ready?" Michael asked.

"Yeah" Damien said "but if you want to be helpful, the roast itself needs to be cut before we can eat it."

"I could do that" Michael offered.

"Much obliged" Damien said, handing Michael a cutting board and the roast out from the icebox. "Well, I'll leave you to it and go help Adam with the horses. " As he moved away Michael sat the roast down on the cutting board and drew his belt knife. The blade was nearly ten inches long and ended in a clip point, the hilt protected by a cross guard. The knife, which was balanced so that it could be thrown, was a useful all-purpose tool. Good for butchering meat or butchery, and he kept it with him always. As he hunched over his work he failed to notice the eyes watching him from across the camp.

Soulina wasn't really paying much attention to what Cecelia was saying, she was contemplating Michael, who was cutting a roast with a knife entirely too large to be called such. As she watched him work her mind wandered back to their earlier conversation. If it was anything to go by he didn't know why she was going to Kingston. Perhaps if she told him he might be sympathetic? After all he looked like a nice enough man, and when they hadn't been arguing he had seemed quite amiable. It couldn't hurt her position to try.

"Meister" she called to him across the camp. Since she didn't know his name she thought calling him by this form of address would be less likely to annoy him than 'sell-sword' or 'mercenary'.

At the sound of her voice he looked up from his work, and made mistake. With his attention diverted from the blade he made one more cut, and sliced the side of his left hand pointer finger between the second and third knuckles with the tip of his knife. When the pain registered he bit back a curse and brought his hand up in front of his face to look at the damage. Through the crimson fluid welling from the wound he could see the white of bone. Frowning he stuck his knife into the cutting board before moving towards his pack, reaching in with his good hand for his medical supplies.

When Soulina saw the blood on his hand she started to her feet and moved quickly to stand next to him, followed closely by her maid. As she came closer and saw the crimson spread to cover his finger she began to worry that he had done himself serious injury with that ridiculously large knife of his.

"Oh, that looks painful, here let me help" she said reaching out for his hand, but he shrugged her off as he turned away from the pack with his medical kit. He really didn't want to think about the hash the noble girl would probably make of his hand if he let her attend to it.

"S'alright" he said as he sat down on a camp stool "I can handle it." As he began the process of cleaning and stitching the wound, Soulina ceased hovering over his shoulder and moved to sit on the stool next to him. The anxiety on her face replaced with a sort of baffled relief.

"How…" she began to ask, before trailing off.

"What?" he asked with a smile "did you assume my skill set would be limited to bashing people with large blunt objects?"

"Well no" she said.

"No I don't imagine you would" he said "I don't really have the build for it" he continued. And in truth he didn't. While Michael was muscular and superbly fit, he was not heavyset. "But even your average basher would have the good sense to learn how to stich himself up if he was in my line of work. And Shibusen's training program is very comprehensive. " Not to mention rigorous he thought to himself.

"I wouldn't have thought triage would be part of a mercenaries training" Soulina said.

"It's more first aid really, with the exception of a few medico's we all just learned the basics. We didn't have the time to learn the whole kit'n'kaboodle from Stein. "Michael told her as he sewed up the gash in his finger.

"Stein?" Soulina asked

"Yeah, doctor Franken Stein. he's the leader of the guilds medical division, and a hell of a surgeon." Bat-shit crazy too Michael thought to himself as he thought of the tall greying man covered in scars, but still good at his job. "Was a doctor in Germany until his….curiosity…. caused him to fall out of his patrons favor and he was forced to flee the country. "To be exact he had been the Kaiser's personal physician, and had fled after vivisecting his prized Bengal tiger.

Steins lectures had been complicated, but the mental gymnastics he had put the trainees through had been a welcome break from the conditioning and combat classes run by Sid. The knife Meister had pushed them well beyond what they thought of as their limits, pushing many to collapse in the process. Michael's most vivid memory of the man was of his dusky face hovering above him, his skin flushed and his mouth open wide to bellow at Michael, who had collapsed puking on the assault course during the third week.

"Stop puking trainee Albarn! You can puke on your own time! You make me want to puke, the way you'll bring disgrace on my beloved Guild! Shibusen Meisters can fight on horseback, on foot, or while we fucking swim, and we don't get tired. The enemy gets tired and then we kill their sorry ass. MOVE! MOVE!"

Oh how he had hated that man, at least he had until he graduated from training. Once he was no longer under Sid's boot he learned that outside of training he was actually a pleasant individual to be around, and a solid comrade. His reminiscing was interrupted by Soulina's soft soprano.

"So the guild isn't just Meisters and weapons then?" She asked

"No, it's just Meisters and weapons." Michael replied.

"But you said stein was a doctor." She said

"Yes, but he's also a Meister." Michael said slowly "in fact he's able to use his wavelength in medical procedures to create sutures."

Whatever her response to that would have been he would never know, as she was distracted when he pulled out a jar of Kim's powder.

"What's that" she asked as he took a pinch of the powder and mixed it with a capful of water from his canteen.

"Salve" he said as he spread the paste over the wound. "Prevents infection, speeds healing, seals the wound. I've seen guys that should have bled out patched up with this stuff able to walk a few days after. "With his finger attended to Michael returned to preparing lunch.

When he turned his back to her and stepped toward the cutting board Soulina knew the conversation was over. She returned to her camp stool by Cecelia and chatted with the maid until lunch was ready. Later, in the carriage after they had resumed their journey, she realized that she had never actually told Michael why she was being shipped to Kingston. And she couldn't tell him now since he wasn't in the carriage. When they had returned to the road he had elected to remain outside the carriage on a sideboard.

"I don't care for the look of that forest" he had said pointing at a clump of trees ahead of them. "I'll stay outside and keep an eye out." And that had been that.

In truth the trees were to sparse to provide cover for an ambush, Michael had just wanted to avoid Soulina. Though admittedly much less comfortable clinging on to the side then he would have been on the padded bench inside, he preferred the fresh air to the company.

They traveled into the grey hours of twilight before stopping in a clearing to make camp for the night. At the evening meal Soulina and her maid ate separately from Michael and the footmen, just as they had at lunch, and retired to their tent shortly after they had finished eating. Michael thought the standoffish behavior at meals was a little odd, since she was cordial enough to the footmen any other time, but wrote it off to British propriety.

The men made an unspoken agreement to stay around the fire a little longer before retiring to their tent. It was a peaceful enough area that they felt no need to post a watch. Adam produced a bottle from under his coat and passed it to Damien, who smiled appreciatively before taking a swig. As he passed the liquor back to Adam, Michael spoke up.

"Perhaps you could pass that over my way" he said in an amiable manner. Adam smiled and replied

"And why should I share my comfort with you sir?"

"Well perhaps if I weren't quite so parched I might be convinced to relate a few choice exploits of mine." Michael responded.

The footmen perked up at the mention of a story, the Meister was sure to have better tales than they, and there was little else to do around the fire but drink and spin yarns. Adam looked to Damien for confirmation before turning to Michael and nodding affirmation.

"Alright" Michael said, pulling a mug out from his pack on the ground beside him. "Pour me a drink, and I'll tell you some lies." After receiving said drink, a smooth single malt scotch, Michael leaned in over the fire. Pausing momentarily for dramatic effect he began to speak, in a slow smooth manner distinct from his normal diction.

"two years ago when I was newly minted one star Meister fresh out of training and looking to make a name for myself a messenger arrived on a dying horse from the east. He had ridden from the Black Hills, changing mounts periodically until he reached the free territories, where he had been unable to find someone to sell him a remount. Rather than slow his pace he had kept going with the same horse. The poor beast was blown, covered in lather. The man had ridden it into the ground in his haste. When we asked why he had been so desperate to arrive he told us that three of his village's folk had disappeared, taken by the witch Blair, and that he had been sent to bring back a Meister before she could strike again…"

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A.N. Alright, first let's answer some questions.

Imak1299 - It is my plan to include as many of the cast of soul eater as i can. I already have plans for all the main weapon pairs, and they will have large roles. The adults and other characters will make appearances as i believe is needed for the progression of the plot, or my own enjoyment.

GlitterGoat

1. This story is set in an alternate universe. Chronologically this is set in the eighteen hundreds, as evidenced by the presence of trains. However, several changes to historical events have altered the progression of society in this universe, and the social models of this world have remained largely the same since the middle/dark ages depending on the region. Explanations will be included in latter chapters. I'd tell you now, but i think it's more fun to work it into the story, and some of it is plot relevant.

2. I plead the fifth.

Now that the questions have been answered on to the Aimless Existence I spy a reference game. Sadly, no one correctly guessed last chapter's references, which were to Thomas the train engine and to Alfred Pennyworth. Don't lose heart, this update you have not one, not two, but five chances to earn points. In this chapter there are references to a classic piece of kit, a TV personality, a post-apocalyptic book series, a classic rock song, and a psychological horror film, in that order. The points are as follows, with each number corresponding to the reference in its spot in the list. 10 points, 5 points, 30 points, 20 points, and 5 points.

I hope you all like the chapter. Remember that if you have anything you would like to say I am always happy to listen to what my readers have to say, just leave a review or send me a pm.

Sincerely

Contaminated Angel.


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